[Hawke is much better at speaking to other people about their things than her own, so she understands that all too well, and it's not her intention to make things awkward. It's actually the last thing she wants; then she'll lack someone interesting to talk to. She sees the deflection for what it is, master of it herself, and smiles wryly.]

He does, yeah, but I'm not the Hawke he knows. It's an adjustment. Like the rest of this bloody place.

[An adjustment she actively hates because she really thought her friends would always have her back, but she can't expect that of someone who doesn't recognize her. It's complicated but sometimes it really, really sucks.]

Are you from a time like ours? Before technology and the like?